


(I've Got) No Complaints

by thedragondidit (humorless_hexagon)



Series: Behind the Scenes [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Hanzo is a Museum Curator, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda?????, M/M, McCree is a Movie Star, Museums, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PDA, Paparazzi, Praise Kink, Trust, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, excessive usage of emojis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humorless_hexagon/pseuds/thedragondidit
Summary: It's been a while since Hanzo last had a significant other, but he's pretty sure having your pictures plastered on the internet, receiving anonymous accusations of being a gold digger, and getting hounded by paparazzi aren't usual aspects of the whole dating thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of [Do You Mind?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907060); therefore you should read that first for context! (If you _have_ already read it, I highly recommend you reread the last few paragraphs because I recently made some edits to them!)
> 
> Thank you to [deathishauntedbyhumans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans) for being a wonderful beta and helping me make feelings happen :)

****Something doesn’t feel quite right when Hanzo steps into work Tuesday morning. He’s had this feeling since touching back down at Reagan National Airport- a vague feeling of unease. Like someone is watching him because they recognize him from the Twitter pictures of him and Jesse. Every stranger he makes eye-contact with causes his shoulders to stiffen and his heart to race.

The funny part is, no one has made any sign of recognition. Hanzo hasn’t been stopped to be interrogated by teenage girls or stalked by paparazzi or been given as much as a side-eye. Still, Hanzo can’t seem to shake off the nerves, and his jittery attitude manifests in fiddling with the buttons on his shirt and re-tying his tie too many times.

He’s already thinking of sneaking into the bathroom to retie it again as he greets the office receptionist.

“Oh, Mr. Shimada, these came in for you this morning.” Angela smiles serenely as she hands Hanzo a massive bouquet of flowers. They are all varying shades of light to deep pinks, which Hanzo can imagine match the blossoming flush on his cheeks. He’s never been one for flowers, but he can’t help but be touched by the sentiment behind them.

“Thank you. I can’t say this is unexpected…” Hanzo says, absent-mindedly rubbing a velvety petal between his thumb and forefinger. They weren’t entirely _expected_ either, so the flowers remain pleasantly surprising. Hazo peels a note from where it has been taped onto the paper of the bouquet.

Angela cocks a curious eyebrow. “Oh? Do you have an admirer?”

A small, irrepressible smile crosses Hanzo’s lips. “Something of the sort, yes.”

Angela’s eyes light up at this. Hanzo has been to enough staff parties to be well-aware of her idealizations of romance, which usually manifested in trying to hook-up their coworkers. Hanzo decides her support is… well-intentioned. “Well, what does the card say?”

The front of the note is emblazoned with his full name written in elaborate cursive script. He turns it over and quickly scans the card.

 

_Mr. Hanzo Shimada:_

_Thank you for putting up with Jesse’s antics the other evening. He informs me that you two have made the hasty decision to “date.”_

_Keep in mind, Jesse has a reputation as a positive public figure. While I don’t intend on making you two split to maintain that reputation, be aware you may be required to make some sacrifices to support him. You are already in the eye of the media, so be sure to exercise caution._

_This whole dating thing with Jesse will be difficult, and I can understand if you would rather back out of it, but you seem to make Jesse very happy. Thank you for that._

_Call me if you ever need anything._

_Gabriel Reyes_

 

Gabriel’s business card is attached underneath the message, confirming the authenticity of it. It’s a little hard to believe this note is from the same guy who cussed Jesse out on the phone, but Hanzo supposes his own professional voice differs from his casual speech. Hanzo sighs happily and pockets the note.

“What it says isn’t very important,” Hanzo lies to Angela. He can’t even imagine how she would react if he told her the flowers are from his boyfriend’s manager. Because his boyfriend is _famous_. He’s still trying to wrap his head around that idea.

“Ah, I see.” Angela nods conspiratorially. She looks like she’s going to prod further, but the telephone on her desk rings and she answers it instead.

Hanzo waves goodbye, to which Angela responds with a disappointed smile. Relieved to be free from the impending embarrassment _that_ conversation was bound to lead to, Hanzo briskly walks down the hall to the meeting room.

Hanzo had never intended on being involved with museums. As a kid, he imagined he’d follow the family tradition of becoming a rich and powerful business tycoon. However, as he grew older and more aware of his family’s fraudulence and crime, Hanzo turned his back on business and followed his younger brother to America. Something drew him to museums- the organization, the education, the high ceilings and unique artifacts- it was all attractive to Hanzo who had grown up in a similar environment. So, Hanzo got into curating. Despite his modest curatorial beginnings, he managed to quickly make a name for himself and land a job at the Smithsonian. While he is usually assigned to the Natural History Museum, he’s been tasked with assisting in the development of a temporary exhibition.

It still feels like a dream, with the exhibit opening in a little more than a month. The meeting he attends today was hastily scheduled only a day prior- unusual, but Hanzo is not off-put.

Unlike his colleagues, apparently. A few members of the curatorial committee are already there, speaking in hushed voices and gesturing with nervous hands. He receives a few stricken nods as he enters the room, but no one halts their conversations. Hanzo lets out a sigh of relief when no one questions him about any pictures floating around the internet.

“Do the flowers serve a purpose?” Satya asks from where she sits across from Hanzo. She eyes the bouquet with disdain. Hanzo likes Satya. Like him, she’s blunt and goal-oriented. In Genji’s words, she “takes no shit.” Hanzo can appreciate that in a co-worker.

“They’re a gift,” Hanzo states, not quite meeting her eye. He leans forward in attempt to aloofly slide the bouquet under his seat, but he is painfully aware of Satya’s begrudgingly intrigued gaze.

“To the director?”

Hanzo goes to sit up, but hits the back of his head on the bottom of the table before managing to straighten himself up. “No from… ah. They’re from my-”

Hanzo and all other conversations in the room are cut off by the director, their boss, making his entrance. Out of a combination of respect and fear of the man, those sitting down stand up and wait until the director has taken his seat at the head of the table before retaking their own seats.

“Thank you for all joining me on such short notice. I’m sure many of you were going to focus on completing your artifact suggestions this morning. Unfortunately, I come bearing bad news.”

Everyone in the room seems to stiffen. They all sit up a little straighter, look at their boss a little harder.

“We’ve made the executive decision to scrap the new exhibit concept.”

The board doesn’t say a word, but their already erect spines go impossibly stiffer and their eyes wander questioningly to each other. In the silence, Hanzo thinks he can hear the collective thumping of a dozen heartbeats.

“Why?” Satya asks the unspoken question that’s on everyone’s mind. Hanzo is thankful that she has the nerve to- no one else would have otherwise.

“Because our surveys came back and no one is interested in ‘The History of Food Preservation.’ Our audience is getting harder and harder to please…”

The director goes on a slight rant, as he tends to do. Hanzo usually pays attention to them, but he’s distracted by the discreet vibration of his phone in his pocket.

“We need something original that will draw in a broader audience than those interested in salt and refrigerators,” the director huffs. “What are people- most people- drawn to?”

Some of Hanzo’s coworkers bounce off ideas- hard sciences, soft sciences, social media, politics, enamel pins- while Hanzo slides his phone out and holds it under the desk. Sure enough, the most recent message is from Jesse.

 

JESSE: mornin sunshine! hope work treats you kindly. if not call me and I can brighten up ur day(Tongue )(Sparkles )(Face Throwing A Kiss )

 

Hanzo smiles to himself despite the anxiety permeating the room. He begins thumbing his response.

 

HANZO: And what might “brightening up my day” entail…?

 

“Mr. Shimada, is something funny?” the director’s hard voice snaps Hanzo back to reality.

“N-no I just-” Hanzo abandons his phone on his lap and all but slams his guilty hands on top of the table. “I was just considering possible new exhibit themes.”

“And what did you have in mind?”

Hanzo forces a smile despite not comprehending the question. “Hmm?”

The director’s expression remains grim and demanding. “For a theme. What did you have in mind?”

“Oh… I’m- it’s silly, hence the- hence the…” Hanzo gestures to his face. He’s never been proficient at fibbing, especially not to higher ups.

The director raises an eyebrow. “We’re looking at…” He picks up the list of ideas that have been jotted down and continues, “...Medieval Contraception and the Evolution of Toes. Right now, no idea is silly. So?” he prompts.

Hanzo nervously glances down to the phone in his lap. Jesse’s icon- grinning and playfully dipping his Stetson- looms over the open conversation.

“Cowboys!” Hanzo says before he thinks.

“Cowboys?” Satya parrots, furrowing her eyebrows. She and the rest of the table have been silently following Hanzo’s conversation with the director.

“Cowboys...” The director steeples his hands and leans in towards Hanzo, evidently curious. “Tell me about cowboys.”

“W-well… ah, cowboys, cowboys.” Hanzo scrambles to organize his thoughts. He takes a deep breath and exhales before speaking again. “People are  _ very _ into cowboys right now. The star from that movie  _ Deadeye-” _

“Jesse McCree?” the director questions. “I suppose he does possess a certain cowboy-esque charm.”

“Exactly! And he is going to be in a television show set in the ‘Wild West,’ which airs around the same time the exhibit is dated to open. It would be a perfect opportunity to make something the general public will be interested in, resulting in a higher likelihood of success.”

Satya chimes in, diligent as always: “We could collaborate with Hollywood to compare real-life cowboys to those in media. Maybe get a couple of costumes and actual historical clothing for visuals?” Hanzo sends a grateful smile her way.

The rest of the board erupts with ideas for how the exhibits could be set up, what artifacts could be secured, slogans for advertisements. The director nods along, throwing in some ideas of his own.

“We could have a red carpet opening night and invite some actors or directors,” the director suggests. “I wonder if we could get Jesse McCree to come to the opening...  _ that _ would generate some buzz.”

The business card in Hanzo’s back pocket suddenly feels like it’s made of lead.

“Would that even be possible?” Hanzo questions. He’s grasping at straws, desperate for some way out of involving Jesse in his work life. The idea sounded good at the moment, but second thought makes Hanzo realize how bad it would look if he asked Jesse to attend his opening for posterity merely days after getting together. “Actors are awfully busy. I can’t imagine they can just halt filming to come to a museum opening.”

At this, Satya rolls her eyes. “I think you’re forgetting you work for  _ the Smithsonian _ , Hanzo. Jesse McCree would be a fool to say no.”

“But-”

“No more rebuttals, Hanzo,” the director concludes. “I’ve made my final decision. I will get in contact with Mr.McCree’s manager as soon as possible and request his presence at next month’s opening. Meanwhile, I think the rest of you have an exhibit to plan.”

Hanzo stares down at the phone in his lap. Jesse’s contact image still grins at him goofily, as if nothing had happened. Like Hanzo hadn’t just pimped his boyfriend out to bloodthirsty curators for a museum opening. Three dots mock him at the bottom of their conversation.

And suddenly they dots are not there anymore and a new text from Jesse mocks him instead.

 

JESSE: youll just have to call me and find out sugar(Winking Face )(Sparkling Heart ) 

JESSE: maybe wait until you have a bathroom break(Winking Face )(Face Throwing A Kiss )(Winking Face ) 

JESSE: just kiddin I wouldnt do/say anything dirty while you’re at work

JESSE: I mean unless youre into that kinda thing. in which case Ill say all the dirty stuff you want

HANZO: I’ll call you during my lunch break.

JESSE: is that a yes to dirty talk during work or a no?(Face Screaming In Fear )

HANZO: As a wise man once said:

HANZO: “youll just have to call me and find out sugar(Winking Face )(Sparkling Heart )”

 

Hanzo tries to repress the guilt that gnaws at his stomach. He feels like he’s using Jesse despite never have intending to, and texting him like nothing is wrong feels like lying even though it isn’t directly.

“Hanzo, can you help me sketch out this hall?” Satya requests, holding up graph paper and a pen.

Hanzo derails his unfortunate train of thought and moves to the chair next to her. Once he’s in whispering range, Satya lowers her voice.

“So, what brought on cowboys? That is a rather… unusual choice for you.” There’s something in her tone that makes Hanzo feel like she knows too much.

Hanzo gives her a weak shrug as he starts to sketch out the perimeter of the exhibit hall they’ve been allotted. He can feel Satya narrow her gaze on him almost predatorily, but she doesn’t mention it any more. Instead, Hanzo is able to redirect the conversation to the exhibit plan.

Even so, Hanzo finds himself occasionally dropping his pen or making a stupid mistake because he keeps thinking back to how he’s _ using _ Jesse’s fame as a platform for his own career.

And that feels so wrong. Because they’ve been “dating” for less than a week and Hanzo genuinely wants Jesse to like him, but that seems unlikely if he treats him like this.  His stomach begins to ache, churning just as fast as the thoughts racing through his mind; he wants to be better to Jesse- to make him smile and laugh. Not… whatever  _ this _ is. With the way things have suddenly progressed, Hanzo’s desire to be a good boyfriend might end up lost in translation.  Hanzo worries at his lip with his teeth and fumbles with his pen again. He considers the note he got from Gabriel Reyes, then considers his career, then considers Jesse’s lackadaisical smile.

Hanzo drops his pen for the upteenth time and it clatters to the ground with what feels like a deafening clang, but no one’s work is disturbed. He curses under his breath and scoots his chair back with a similar inelegant racket and a sickening crunch. Hanzo risks a quick look down. The pen is broken- ink spilling across the floor, through the cracks of the tiles. The flow is staunched by the bouquet, charming pinks now being dyed a somber grey. He can’t help but pause and watch the thin black lines texture the soft petals as ink seeps further into them.

“Hanzo?” Satya’s voice sounds concerned above him.

Hanzo seizes the base of the bouquet in an inappropriately forceful grip and resurfaces- not before hitting his head on the table again.

“You should clean that up,” Satya suggests unhelpfully. Hanzo stares at the sodden mess in his hands and the black pool on the ground.

“Perhaps,” Hanzo says dejectedly. He drops the bouquet onto the table to run a hand through his hair. He doesn’t have the time to clean up this mess. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but it happened nonetheless, and now he  _ has _ to deal with it. “Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing support on Do You Mind? and Off Script!!! All of your comments and kudos are the reason this story has come into fruition, so thank you thank you thank you!!! Please keep the feedback up- it is the best motivator!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo has a conversation he doesn't want to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thank you to kris for catching all of my random commas! and everyone who has commented or left kudos! y'all are the best!

“Please do not be upset with me,” Hanzo practically begs as soon as Jesse picks up the phone.

Hanzo’s been trying to get a hold of his boyfriend since the museum lunch break started nearly half an hour ago. With only fifteen minutes left, Jesse had finally picked up, interrupting Hanzo halfway through a mouthful of his already-cold food truck bento.

“Well good morning to you too, babe,” Jesse yawns from the other end of the phone. “To what do I owe the honor of a preemptive apology?”

“Morning?” Hanzo glances at his watch. “It’s nearly two in the afternoon.”

“Time differences,” Jesse sing-songs, pausing a moment before adding, “Are you avoidin’ my question?”

Hanzo realizes that it must have been at least five in the morning Jesse’s time when their earlier conversation over text occurred. The idea that Jesse may have woken up early just to send his well wishes makes Hanzo smile despite the dire situation.

Something tickles the back of Hanzo’s throat as he opens his mouth to speak. He coughs and tries to sound casual. “I got the flowers from Mr. Reyes that you warned me about. I’m afraid my pen accidentally broke near them and they’re now covered in ink.” Hanzo nervously twists a strand of hair on his forefinger and stares at the rest of his uneaten lunch. Somehow, he’s not so hungry anymore. 

Hanzo is no coward, and it’s not like he’s never confronted anyone about mistakes he’s made in the past, so the anxiety swelling in his chest seems uncalled for. Wasn’t it  _ him _ who radiated confidence when he and Jesse first met? Why was it that something so stupid and likely insignificant could get into his head so much? Maybe it’s because Hanzo has been out of the dating game for a while, or because Jesse has a reputation to maintain. Maybe it’s because Jesse has managed to become so important to Hanzo in such a short time, or maybe it’s because-

“Flowers? Is that what I’m supposed to be not upset about, or are you still avoidin’?” Jesse’s voice drags Hanzo back to the present. He still sounds like he’s trying to stay calm, but his wariness is evident by something sharp and high in his tone.

Hanzo gives himself a minute to take a breath. He’s absolutely terrified of Jesse’s reaction, but he knows it is better to quickly rip off the band-aid than to let the secret fester. “I may have accidentally dropped your name at my meeting this morning.”

“Oh.” McCree sounds empty. Over the phone, his reaction is difficult to judge; Hanzo cannot see any twitching lips or clenched jaws. The austerity is almost worse than any upset outburst Hanzo might have been expecting.

“My coworkers do not appear to suspect there is anything licentious between us, or even that I may know you personally,” Hanzo says quickly, attempting to recover. “However, I believe my director may approach you, or approach Mr. Reyes, at least, about attending our upcoming exhibit.”

“The one about refrigerators you told me about over dinner last week?” Jesse asks, sudden surprise seeming to outweigh silent frustration. Hanzo can picture him doing a double-take- eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. He wishes Jesse were with him right now. He didn’t realize how agonizing it would be to be apart. Sure, they could text and call and video chat all they wanted, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

“Ah, no, not The History of Food Preservation.” Hanzo runs a sweaty hand through his hair, pulling some strands out of his ponytail. “It’s an alternate exhibit that I suggested due to apparent lack of interest in the food preservation exhibit.”

“ _ You _ suggested it? Is that why I’m gonna be going?” Jesse questions, suspicion edging into his tone.

Hanzo’s pitch rises slightly as he reiterates, words tripping over each other in his haste to get them out.“You don’t have to go! I did not intend-”

“What’s the theme gonna be if not the  _ wonders _ of food preservation?”

The interrupting inquiry catches Hanzo off guard for a moment, and he has to lick his lips before he launches into an explanation. “Well, I was inspired by your… unique style and appreciation of western films, so I proposed comparing the legitimate historical culture to that depicted in movies and television and such.”

A moment of silence persists as Jesse pauses to consider the thought. Hanzo is unable to hold back his apologetic rambling: “I did not intend for the idea to escalate as far as it did. I was thinking about you, and I was under pressure from my director, so I just said the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Cowboys?”

“Yes.” Hanzo massages the bridge of his nose. “Cowboys. It wasn’t my best moment.”

“I dunno…  _ I _ think cowboys are pretty neat,” Jesse discloses, acting as if it weren’t obvious.

_ Of course you do _ , Hanzo thinks sarcastically. He doesn’t have the heart to poke fun at Jesse at the moment. Instead, he stresses his point, “You do not have attend the premiere red carpet if you don’t want to. I-I can come up with a better exhibit so it won’t even happen-”

“Hanzo.”

“I am extremely sorry about this whole affair, Jesse. I am not trying to take advantage of you or treat you differently because of your career. I never-”

“Hanzo, it’s okay.”

“But it’s not!” Someone passing by to get to the bathroom gives Hanzo a questioning look. He holds up a hand in apology for unintentionally raising his voice. In a softer tone, he continues, “You told me you didn’t want-”

“It was an accident.” Jesse sighs. He sounds tired. Again, Hanzo wishes he were there with him. “I understand things happen. You were pressed and had to act fast.”

When there is a lull in the conversation, Hanzo inquires: “You aren’t mad?”

Another pause, this time for Jesse to think. “Not too much. Shocked, yes. A little flattered, even? I don’t know, us-  _ this _ is all uncharted territory for me. I trust you didn’t plan any of it, though.”

Hanzo lets out an audible sigh, causing Jesse to chuckle. “What? Did’ya worry I would break up with you the second I found out?”

Hanzo bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from affirming Jesse’s teasing.

“You’re a good apple, Hanzo; you couldn’t do anything too malicious. And I  _ suppose _ I could take time out of my  _ busy schedule _ to go to a Smithsonian exhibit opening. Which my  _ boyfriend _ came up with when he was  _ thinking of me _ .”

Hanzo chuckles. “It’s hard not to think of you when  _ you _ are the one texting me in the middle of a meeting. What time would have that been for you? Five in the morning?”

“Just about. I’m always glad to be of service- any hour of the day,” he boasts, smile creeping into his tone. Hanzo absentmindedly mimics it with his own small grin. Jesse’s voice sounds more familiar as it returns to a more upbeat and less serious rhythm. “Thank you for making your great public declaration of how much you adore me a whole museum exhibit.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Is it  _ not _ a great declaration of your affections? The paparazzi will feel cheated,  _ betrayed _ .”

“The great declaration of my affections would most likely be more private. During the after-party, perhaps?” Hanzo drops his voice to something quiet and more intimate. It’s easier to fall back into their playful dynamic. “Or would you prefer back at your hotel room?”

Jesse makes a whining noise into the microphone. “We’re playing that game now?”

“We could run off before the exhibition has ended. I could show you my apartment...”

“Stop bein’ a tease!” Jesse groans, followed by another, more distant voice.

“You’re not allowed to have phone sex while I’m driving!” It is unmistakably Gabriel’s gruff tone.

“We aren’t doing anything of the like!” Jesse gasps, jokingly mortified. Hanzo smiles at how normal it all feels. The anxiety that was tightening his throat and making his chest feel hollow has dissipated, leaving him feeling strangely light. It’s a good feeling, though, one that he is surprised to find he craves more of. He still wishes that Jesse was there with him- to hold his hand and look at him with those dizzying brown eyes- but the easy, teasing dynamic over the phone is a welcome substitute for now.

“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Reyes!” Hanzo all but shouts, hoping Gabriel can hear.

“Hanzo ruined them already, but I’m sure they were lovely,” Jesse teases.

“Damn right they were,” Gabe’s confirmation is muffled over the phone, but it causes Hanzo to giggle nonetheless.

“I’m happy that your director liked your idea, sugar,” Jesse says sweetly. “And if I get to see you again because of it, then I can’t complain.”

“Th-thank you Jesse. For trusting me.” Hanzo isn’t sure why he chokes on the word. It feels like saying ‘I love you.’

“Thanks for being so trustworthy.” And that sounds like an ‘I love you too.’ Hanzo can’t tell if he’s fooling himself or if he can really hear the kind, genuine smile in McCree’s voice.

“I’ll talk to you later?”

“You better.”

Hanzo can hear Gabriel groan on the other end of the phone. “Please  _ shoot  _ me, you two are sickening.”

“Bye, Hanzo!” Jesse’s laugh seems to echo throughout Hanzo’s head even after he hits the “End Call” button.

When the board reconvenes after lunch, Hanzo is uncharacteristically late. His call with Jesse had taken longer than the permitted break time, but Hanzo needed to see that conversation to its completion.

The director’s hands are steepled at the head of the meeting table as Hanzo tries to covertly slink back into his seat. “So kind of you to join us, Mr. Shimada. Just because you have one good idea does not mean you’re free to take an extended lunch break.”

“My apologies.” Hanzo nods as he takes his seat. Usually, he would be nonplussed by the comment, but his conversation with Jesse took such a better turn than he expected that he shakes the negativity off without giving it any more thought than necessary.

The director wraps up the meeting by reviewing information regarding finances and reiterating the due dates of the new exhibit pieces. The clock seems to tick in slow motion as he drones on. Despite the trouble he got into earlier, Hanzo finds himself checking his phone under the table. No new messages. Still a couple of hours until he gets off of work. Charge at seventy-two percent. Nothing particularly significant. Reluctantly, he turns his attention back to discussions of budgeting.

The board disperses after the meeting, most people to research and contact associates with artifacts (or, in this case, props and costumes) of interest. Normally, Hanzo would review with Satya, but she is focused on completing a minutes log of the meeting and he can’t find it in himself to interrupt her flow. 

Instead, Hanzo goes back to the break room to get a drink and toss out the battered bouquet. Angela is standing by the water filter, face contorted in some ineffective attempt to conceal a conspiratorial smile. She waves at Hanzo as he approaches.

“Good afternoon, Angela.”

“Hello, Hanzo!” she replies cheerfully.  _ Too _ cheerfully, Hanzo thinks as he narrows his eyes. “How was the meeting? I heard about the change of exhibit. Congratulations on spearheading the new theme, though. Very original!”

“Are you okay?” Hanzo asks bluntly. Angela was usually clear and concise, and did not tend to ramble on like this. Her eyes keep wandering from Hanzo’s face to the crumpled flowers, then back to his face.

“Perfectly fine!” Angela laughs airily. It’s painfully obvious how forced it is, even to Hanzo. “Are you okay? Returning to your normal routine after experiencing a significant change in your everyday life can be very difficult to adjust to.”

The hairs on the back of Hanzo’s neck rise as he fights to keep himself from taking on a more defensive stance. “And what might you be referring to?”

“Well, there’s no use trying to hide it, is there…” Angela lowers her voice to a whisper, even going as far to shield the side of her mouth with her hand. “I’ve seen the pictures. Of you and Jesse McCree. He’s your admirer you received those flowers from, isn’t he?”

It isn’t a surprise that Angela is the first one to know- if any of his coworkers used Twitter, it would be her- but the reality of someone  _ knowing _ is still a shock. Hanzo’s mouth feels dry and gummy. The water filter mockingly lets out a bubble. “Yes.”

Angela squeals, then stifles her exclamation with her hand. “How romantic! Is he coming to the exhibit opening? I heard rumours we were going to invite him.”

“I… I think he is, yes.” Angela’s eyes light up even brighter than before. Hanzo cuts her off before she can say anything else. “Angela, you cannot let  _ anyone  _ know, alright? It is imperative I keep my connection to Jesse off of the radar for as long as possible.” 

Angela bites her lip to hold back her smile. Hanzo is confused for a second, but as he replays his wording in his head, he realizes that he used Jesse’s name so casually. It was the obvious instinct for him, but Angela only has only see Jesse behind a screen. She’s only ever known Jesse McCree the movie star.

Hanzo can’t even imagine how people- absolute strangers- would react if they heard that the exhibit was somewhat inspired by Jesse. He can’t imagine they would be as pleased as Angela, who worked with Hanzo and knew he had good intent. Genji had explained fans could be extremely protective of celebrities, especially Jesse. They would most likely take the route Hanzo had feared Jesse would take and frame him for using their idol.

“Of course, of course, I understand. Your secret is safe with me.” Angela winks, obviously trying and failing to be subtle, and leaves the break room humming something chipper and sweet under her breath.

Angela’s laid-back attitude leaves something uneasy and roiling in Hanzo. In this back pocket, his phone vibrates. He opens the text and grimaces.

 

JESSE: just got the call from smithsonian asking to be part of the exhibit. explained the situation to gabe and made him say yes. cant wait to see you soon~! <3

 

Hanzo tries to regain the use of his throat with a cupful of water, although most of it ends up dribbling down his chin instead of staying in his mouth the way he intends it to. He wipes his face off with a tissue and returns to the workroom feeling even more disgruntled than he had before.

He takes a seat and sets the bouquet back on the table.

Oh. The bouquet. He had forgotten to throw it out. It didn’t look that worse for wear, Hanzo supposes. Given some water and a proper vase, it might even look charming, if not avant-garde.

He concludes that it’s the thought that counts. Someone was thinking of him, which was something special all on its own- he doesn’t need the flowers to look perfect to prove that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for being so patient and sweet so far!! kudos/comments fuel me! feel free to also yell at me on tumblr @sarcasticskeptic


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life catches up to Hanzo faster than he could expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Off Script](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932692) is referenced during this chapter! You don’t have to read it before this, but it clarifies what is happening on Jesse's end :)

Hanzo is settling down after a long day of research with a book in one hand and a cup of Chamomile tea in the other when the tell-tale marimba ringtone of his phone chimes in the kitchen. He ignores it in favor of opening up his novel- missing  _ one  _ phone call would not be the end of the world. A relaxed sigh escapes his mouth as the melody comes to a halt, only to immediately start up again. Genji must be calling.

Annoyed, Hanzo returns his bookmark to the book and sets his tea down on the coffee table to scurry into the kitchen and grab his obnoxiously loud phone.

“What do you want, Genji?” Hanzo asks brusquely.

Despite Hanzo’s gruffness, Genji sounds smug when he replies. “I just thought you should know your boyfriend is waxing poetic about you on live television right now!”

“...what?” 

“Ugh, you’re hopeless. It’s on ABC. Turn it on quick- they’re almost done!” Genji commands. In the moment, he vaguely reminds Hanzo of their father. It’s a terrifying thought.

Hanzo scrambles back into the living room hastily scans over the coffee table, couch, and then cabinet for the remote.

“Genji,” Hanzo says, feeling slightly panicked. “I cannot find the television remote.”

“Haaaaaanzo,” Genji whines. “You are the worst.”

“It’s not my fault I don’t frequently watch TV!” Hanzo hisses and dives to his knees so he can start dismantling the couch cushion by cushion.

“Uh, it kind of is.”

Sure enough, the offending remote is underneath the last cushion that Hanzo pulls out. “Wait I found it! ABC, you said?”

“Yes! Hurry!”

Hanzo hastily flicks through stations until he finds the one where Jesse is sitting with a talk-show hostess.

Hanzo drops the remote onto the coffee table so he can reassemble his couch just enough for him to sit down. “He looks… dapper,” Hanzo sighs. Jesse is in a light suit jacket with a patterned button-up visible underneath. Somehow, Jesse still manages to make the outfit look casual- the top two buttons of his shirt undone, shoulders lax and posture confident yet calm. It’s handsome.

“Shut up and stop drooling! Watch! He’s talking about you”

On screen, Jesse is smiling and gesturing languidly as he speaks. “ _ He didn’t even know I was a well-known actor until his brother told him. _ ”

Genji gasps. “That’s me! He mentioned me!”

“Hush Genji, I am trying to watch.” Hanzo hears Genji’s huff of amused laughter at how engaged he suddenly is in the program, but he steadily ignores him to focus on the show.

The interviewer raises her eyebrows and leans in, evidently intrigued. “ _ And have you ever suspected he was lying? _ ”

Hanzo’s stomach churns at that. It’s what both he and Jesse had feared people would assume. But Jesse’s response- “ _ No _ ” -is instant. Even after directly speaking with Jesse about it, seeing such a sure declaration of faith is still able to ease Hanzo’s stomach. Excited butterflies take the place of the tumultuous ocean.

“Ooh, I got chills. What about you, Hanzo?” Genji speaks like they’re watching a movie. But, unlike any other time Genji’s ever sat him down and made him watch something, Hanzo is too entranced with what’s happening on screen to respond. This was no movie, this was Hanzo’s  _ life _ .

Jesse keeps talking to the hostess with his tinged-pink cheeks and easy-going smile, and Hanzo finds that he misses him more intensely than ever.

Genji chirps persistently in Hanzo’s ear. “Hello? Earth to Hanzo?”

“Hmm?”

Genji snorts, laughter crackling slightly over the phone. “Wow, you really have it bad for him, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hanzo stammers, heat gathering in his cheeks in spite of his desperate protestation.

“Right, right, of course.”

Hanzo pauses and looks back to the television screen where Jesse’s interview has cut out to a cat food commercial. Hanzo wouldn’t have been able to even imagine dating someone who gushed about him on talk-shows if it weren’t for his brother. “...Thank you, Genji.”

“Anything I can do to help my favorite brother,” Genji sing-songs. “I saw the exhibit announcement on Twitter, by the way. Jesse is on the advertisement and people are freaking out.”

“Were the any mentions of me?” Hanzo asks, even though he’s not sure if he really wants an answer.

“I didn’t see any, but I can’t imagine it will take long for people to find out you’re working on it.”

Hanzo sighs and takes a sip of his tea. “What do you think will happen when my involvement in the project is discovered?”

Genji pauses. “I can’t say. If I were you, I would take things one step at a time. And stay positive. And tell my movie-star boyfriend to get my brother, who is a  _ brilliant _ actor, a gig.” An alarm goes off in the distance on Genji’s end of the line. “Oh! I have to run off to dinner with a director I met at Lucio’s party! I think he’s considering me for a part in his upcoming film!”

“Congratulations!” Hanzo can’t hold back his surprise. “You will tell me about it tomorrow?”

“Of course. Good night, Hanzo!”

Hanzo returns all of the couch cushions to their respective places and resettles himself with his book and now-lukewarm tea. He ends up reading and re-reading a single paragraph for a couple of minutes before abandoning his efforts altogether. Instead of continuing the novel as he originally planned, he decides to get ready for bed.

He’s brushing his teeth when he begins to properly reflect on recent events. Genji might be in a movie. Hanzo is spearheading an exhibit. Jesse is going to be visiting him to come to aforementioned exhibit. It’s been a while since Hanzo’s felt so… apprehensive? No,  _ excited _ . It’s been a while since Hanzo’s felt so excited about his future, but now he has so much to look forward to. When he looks in the mirror, Hanzo is smiling, and as he gets into bed, he finds can’t stop. How could he with so much excitement in his life?

Hanzo’s smile is wiped off of his face the following morning as he approaches the office. Usually, the building is relatively stalwart and solemn, especially on Meeting Days like today when everyone arrives twenty minutes early, jittery from nerves and too much coffee, and frantically scanning their notes to make sure their content is up to par.

But today, despite the fact it is a Meeting Day, the front of the office building is buzzing with activity. A substantial crowd blocks the front entrance. Even at the distance he’s at, Hanzo can make out the tell-tale shapes of people holding microphones and larger-than-average cameras. The crowd is most definitely paparazzi. He feels like he’s going to throw up.

A few days prior, Jesse had instructed Hanzo what to do. Just walk through them, smile a bit, don’t answer any questions. That shouldn’t be too hard.

Except that as soon as he comes close enough to make out their faces, each person’s eyes seem to gleam with a feral hunger. Hanzo feels like a deer approaching a pack of starving wolves. 

There is the briefest moment of silence as they size up Hanzo, then, all at once, they erupt into flurry of microphones shoved into his face and frantic questions spat in his general direction.

_ Just walk through them _ . “Excuse me,” Hanzo says, as firmly as he can. He manages to push forward a few steps, but the group just closes around him. There is an overwhelming press of hot air and questions and people.

_ Smile a bit _ . Hanzo forces a pained smile and repeats his “excuse me” as he attempts to take another step forward, but a young man with a microphone slides in front of him.

“Hanzo, are you still seeing Jesse McCree?”

_ Don’t answer any questions _ .

A grotesquely sly smile crosses the reporter’s face. There’s intentional cruelty behind his words despite the innocence in his tone. “Or could you be using your alleged one-night-stand with him to bolster your own fame?”

“Of course Jesse and I are still together!” Hanzo huffs and proceeds to shoulder his way through. He doesn’t see the reporter follow. Surely answering  _ one _ question won’t hurt him.

More people shove microphones in his face. “Hanzo, who are you going to be wearing for the premiere?”

The answer slips out instinctively. “I… I do not know.” Hanzo doesn’t even know what that means, and he figures answering  _ two _ questions can’t be that damaging.

“Is your relationship just a grab for Jesse’s stardom?”

“No!” Hanzo says, horrified. He doesn’t know who would want anything like  _ this-  _ to be mobbed by people who had just an inkling that he was involved with a celebrity. It’s difficult for him to imagine this occurring regularly or even conceive the idea that this is someone’s ideal. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

“Will Jesse also be at the meeting?”

“Not unless he managed to fly here from L.A. without my knowledge,” Hanzo deadpans. He’s beginning to get a headache from the flashing of cameras and the cacophony of questions. Questions that he isn’t supposed to be answering. Hanzo shoulders his way through with a renewed vigor.

Eventually, Hanzo makes it to the entrance where Angela is staring wide-eyed from her desk. As soon as he passes the threshold inside, his ears are hit with glorious, glorious quiet (save for the muffled group outside).

“What is happening out there?” Angela asks, shuffling the papers on her desk.

“Paparazzi. Who did you tell?” Hanzo’s glare is accusatory

“No one!” Angela puts her hands up in surrender. “Well, maybe one or two of my friends, but there’s no way all of those people outside could have known!”

“No…” Hanzo sighs. He couldn’t be mad at Angela; there were more factors at play than just her knowledge. “They probably did some research into who was involved with the event after Jesse’s face was put on our advertisement.”

Satya emerges from the meeting room to the front desk, eyeing the now dispersing mob with virulence. “They are still here? What right do they have harassing us like this?”

Angela shrugs. “People eat up any story about a celebrity.”

“Then this is about that Jesse McCree who is attending our exhibit? What information do they have to gain from us?”

“Hanzo is Jesse McCree’s partner.” Angela slaps a hand over her mouth as soon as she lets out the confession. “Sorry, Hanzo.”

Again, Hanzo sighs. “It’s alright. I don’t suppose there is much of a point in keeping it secret now.” (Although he  _ is _ considering taking back his lack of initial anger towards Angela.)

Satya looks dissatisfied with that answer. “So?”

“So what?” Angela asks.

“So, why do  _ they _ care?” Satya gestures to the stragglers trying to take pictures of them through the glass.

“You know, celebrity gossip and all of that,” Angela says like it's the obvious answer.

Hanzo leans in towards Satya. “I don’t understand it either,” he confesses.

“Shimada, Vaswani. We’re going to start in a few minutes,” one of Hanzo’s coworkers calls from the doorway of the meeting room. With one last withering glance at the paparazzi, Hanzo shuffles in alongside Satya.

The room falls silent as Hanzo steps into the meeting room. The Director is already there, which sends alarms throughout Hanzo’s head. The Director never usually shows up early to meetings, especially not simple planning ones.

“Mr. Shimada. It has been brought to my attention, and the board’s attention, that you have a certain...  _ involvement _ with Jesse McCree.”

Well, _ that _ is certainly not what Hanzo is expecting, probably foolish in retrospect,  considering the size of the crowd of people outside struggling to get a look at him. “I- ah… Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“It’s great!” The Director beams, throwing his arms out. “This will give us so much PR- it already has! Did you see how many reporters were out there?”

Hanzo looks down at his uncharacteristically dishevelled clothes, which became so rumpled from pushing through the reporters the Director was praising. “Yes, I did.”

“I thought it was surprising how eager Jesse McCree’s agent signed on. I never suspected we could have an insider source- a  _ celebrity _ \- right here in this very room!”

Hanzo flounders. “I wouldn’t consider myself a-”

“Congratulations Mr. Shimada!” The Director springs up and reaches across the table to shake one of Hanzo’s hands in both of his. “I have a feeling this will be one of our biggest exhibits yet.”

Hanzo returns the gesture with a limp hand and a weak smile. This was not what he had in mind when Gabriel had warned him that he was going to be in the public eye. He’d been expecting the paparazzi because of Jesse’s additional warning, but… Hanzo has never been  _ famous _ . He hasn’t considered the possibility. He much prefers his life in the background; striving for fame has always been his brother’s job, not his own. But it  _ is  _ his job now, it seems. Gabriel’s warning feels distant, like it had come to him months ago instead of a mere day. 

And even then, Hanzo supposes he doesn’t really know Jesse McCree. He certainly knows  _ Jesse _ , but not  _ Jesse McCree.  _ The movie star. The public figure. Hanzo doesn’t know anything about Jesse’s movies or fanbase or reputation. He had disregarded the aspects that made Jesse a celebrity because they didn’t seem important at the time, but now, when paparazzi were literally pounding on his office door, those aspects seem more important than ever.

But Jesse didn’t want Hanzo to treat him as Jesse McCree, beloved actor; therefore, Hanzo reasons, he can’t consult Jesse about this crisis. This was something he had to handle on his own.

Hanzo won’t tell Jesse about this incident, he decides firmly. That would be making it a Big Deal and Jesse was insistent about not making anything a Big Deal. Besides, how difficult could it be to disperse a group of bloodthirsty reporters… every day… for the next several weeks…

Okay, so it was going to be more challenging than Hanzo telling some people to piss off, but there isn’t anything Hanzo can’t handle. He hopes.

The meeting continues on, other people coming forward with their ideas and their research for the new exhibit, but Hanzo finds himself unable to focus on the task at hand. He brushes his fingers over his phone in his pocket, silent since Genji’s call the night before, and resists the urge to tug it out and text Jesse. 

He has a distinct prickling feeling that he is in over his head on every level imaginable, because there’s not much he can do but hope it all works out in the end. He removes his hand from his pocket and leans forward in his seat, attempting to return his attention to the meeting. Satya glances at him from across the table, but he ignores her searching gaze. He will handle this on his own, and everything will be just fine. 

It has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and wonderful comments! Your feedback always makes me smile!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience! i hit a road block with this chapter for a while but managed to finally get back into it!

“Listen to this headline: ‘Jesse McCree’s New Lover Only In It For The Attention.’ That’s a mighty bold statement to make.”

Hanzo has been FaceTiming with Jesse for nearly an hour already, although it only feels like it’s been a few minutes. They had painstakingly deliberated what day Jesse had off and a time Hanzo wasn’t at work or doing research at home, so they could sit down and have an evening (or afternoon, on Jesse’s part) together. It had gone pretty well so far- they had both exchanged how their respective days were going, what places in DC Hanzo was going to show Jesse, and how the exhibit is coming along. All was relatively pleasant, save for the fact Hanzo’s encounter with the paparazzi was looming over his head the entire time. It had been a week since the initial encounter, and Hanzo hasn’t been into the office since. Ignoring the issue was much simpler than dealing with it. At any moment, it felt like the ball was going to drop and Jesse was going to freak out, but no mention of the topic had been made so far. Until now.

“W-what? Where are you reading that?” Hanzo stutters. On Hanzo’s computer screen, Jesse is looking off to the side, presumably at his own laptop.

He waves it off nonchalantly. “It’s just some online celebrity gossip column. None of it’s true.” Still, Jesse’s attention doesn’t waver from the screen, and his eyebrows furrow in concern. “Hanzo, you didn’t tell me you got bombarded by paparazzi,” he says. Hanzo can’t help but feel guilty from Jesse’s weak attempt to disguise his disappointment with surprise.

“Yes... it happened yesterday, at work,” Hanzo confesses, looking away from his computer and down at his hands.

“They didn’t say anything nasty to ya, did they? I’ve been called some terrible names by those fuckers.”

“N-no, they just asked questions,” Hanzo stutters. Instead of lashing out or passive-aggressively rolling his eyes as Hanzo might have, Jesse seems worried. His concern is unexpected, but sweet.

“Well, the next time you see them, just don’t answer,” he suggests, rephrasing his advice from before. “They’re just trying to catch you slipping up or get a rise outta you so they can make you look bad in the public eye. If you look bad, the public won’t like you, which makes their jobs a helluva lot easier.”

“I do not need to be liked by the public,” Hanzo scoffs, leaning back in his chair.

There’s fondness in Jesse’s voice when he replies. “I don’t mean to brag or anythin’, but when you’re dating a public figure, you kinda do.”

“But I am not you.” It seems unfair that Jesse’s life is monitored so closely by his fans. Hanzo has never really been in a place where it concerned him before now, but when he thinks back on it, he can’t remember a time when celebrity gossip wasn’t present. Even if Hanzo doesn’t directly partake in the culture, his coworkers, his guests at the museum… everyone has always seemed invested in the lives of celebrities. Celebrities who don’t have any _choice_ in the matter.

“But you’re my ‘New Lover’ according to this here article.” Jesse moves his phone to point the camera at a garishly large title on the celebrity gossip website he’s been perusing. Just underneath is an unflattering image of Hanzo. His eyes are wide and eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging slightly open in what could be confusion or disgust, or maybe a mix of both. “People who follow my work are going to go pretty crazy over you,” Jesse continues. “The media knows me, but you’re fresh meat. You don’t have a reputation yet, so people are getting ready to shape you however they want.”

And now Hanzo is going to entrenched in the world of public investment in the life of a stranger, even if he doesn’t want to be. He sighs and drops his head down onto the desk. “Being under public scrutiny is exhausting just to _think_ about. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s not all bad, I promise.” But even Jesse doesn’t sound confident when he says so.

“Is the whole world going to hate me now? Because that column makes me sound like a shitty boyfriend.” Hanzo glances up to see Jesse worrying his lower lip with his teeth and fiddling with a pen in his hands. It’s not exactly the symbol of confidence he’s looking for.

Jesse hums thoughtfully and taps the pen against his chin. “Not necessarily... I think I have an idea, I just need to get Gabe’s permission. Can I call you back?”

“Yes, of course. I'll speak with you soon.” Hanzo has faith that whatever plan Jesse is cooking is ridiculous, but he’s willing to humor it. Anything that may make the world think he is less of an idiot than the article made him out to be is worth the risk.

While Jesse is preoccupied with his scheme, Hanzo takes the initiative to look into himself. One search of “Jesse McCree boyfriend” comes up with hundreds of thousands of websites- the first being the one Jesse was reading earlier.

Hanzo clicks on the link to a fan forum post about the matter. More pictures of Hanzo’s interactions with the paparazzi (ranging from uncomplimentary to cringe-worthy) pop up with comments evaluating Hanzo. The appraisals vary from “he’s hot” to lengthy paragraphs assessing “what we know about Jesse McCree’s mystery man.” As Hanzo reads the conversations about him, he progressively feels like he’s spying. He shouldn’t be here.

Hanzo almost clicks out of the tab, but ventures forward onto one more page of comments. There’s a handful of people gushing about how cute he and Jesse are together, immediately followed by an anonymously posted tirade:

 

_Our Jesse is so much better than picking up some rando in a bar. Im guessing this is a publicity stunt considering this guy is an absolute nobody. How would he even know Jesse? Hes for sure only in it for the attention, then playing it coy for the paps. Poor Jesse deserves better than this fame-seeking fake </3 _

 

It was already worse than Hanzo could imagine. They hate him. Calling their entire relationship off would probably be a better course of action so Jesse wouldn’t have to put up with any of this extra drama.

Just as Hanzo closes the tab, Jesse calls back.

“I got the A-Okay from Gabe!” Jesse beams from the other side of the computer screen.

Hanzo smiles nervously. “What exactly are you planning?”

“Remember when I took those pictures while you were here?”

“You’ll have to remind me which ones. You were very adamant about taking _many_ pictures.” Most of them were unflattering to say the least, and Hanzo would rather die than let them see the light of day.

“Exactly! I’m gonna post one of them on Instagram.” Jesse’s face is frozen and his video is paused, indicating that he’s already looking through images, or maybe even already on Instagram. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it sets Hanzo on edge nonetheless.

“Will that even do anything?” he asks in disbelief. Surely social media couldn’t work that easily. “Then there will just be more pictures of me on the internet.”

“Yes, but these ones are cuter than you lookin’ scared shitless.” Despite the obvious attempt at comfort, Hanzo isn’t assured- Jesse would probably claim Hanzo looks good even if he were vomiting into a toilet. Without any regard to Hanzo’s lack of faith, Jesse continues, “Besides, I’m writing a sappy caption about how I’m ass over heels for you. Now people know that we’re actually dating, so they should start likin’ you more.”

Hanzo resists asking whether or not Jesse is in love. Mockery is much easier and much less complicated: “I’m pretty sure the phrase is ‘head over heels,’”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “I’m pretty sure it’s ‘ass over heels.’” Jesse gets back on to the video chat solely to narrow his eyes at his boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” Hanzo asks, holding his hand over his mouth to hide his giggle of amusement.

Jesse props his phone up on the table so he can stare with frank confusion, hands clasped dramatically in front of him. “Hanzo, baby, are you playing me? Is that not what the phrase is? I’ve said ass over heels my entire life. My existence has been a lie if it’s actually head over heels.”

Hanzo snorts. “I hope reality isn’t too disappointing.”

“I’m crushed. The real world is much crueler and unkind than- oh! Lucio commented on my picture already!”

“Does Instagram work that quickly?”

“Sometimes!” Jesse’s face freezes on-screen again. “Oh, wow.” He whistles. “There’s a real mixed bag of comments here. Lots of the little pink heart emojis. I like those ones, but the sparkle heart has more pizzazz...”

Hanzo pockets that tidbit, but there are more important things to discuss than the qualities of emojis. “What do the comments say?”

“Well Lucio commented ‘Missed you the other night but it looks like you had better plans’ with one of those sticky-out tongue winky emojis. ‘JesseMcreeLover69’ commented ‘omg too cute’ with several heart emojis, including the sparkle heart. At least JesseMcreeLover69 has some taste.”

Hanzo recoils at the poor choice of username, but Jesse carries on nonchalantly. “There’s a couple of people who have said ‘goals’ or somethin’ of the like.”

Hanzo does not frequently find himself perplexed, but pop culture slang is something he constantly struggles to wrap his head around. “What does that mean?”

“Like, we’re couple goals. We’re what people aspire to be,” Jesse explains.

The concept lacks any appeal to Hanzo. “That’s ridiculous. Those people barely know anything about our relationship.”

“They can still dream, can’t they?” While he can’t see him, Hanzo knows from the slightly higher pitch of his tone that Jesse is shrugging

“What about the bad stuff?” Hanzo pushes. “Surely people can’t only think we are ‘goals’ and nothing else.” With the comments from the forum he’d scrolled through still fresh in his mind, Hanzo is absolutely certain that it can’t be this easy to turn the tides of public approval of their relationship.

Jesse’s voice gets quieter, and he’s almost pouting when he turns the video camera back on. “Oh, you’re not interested in that trash, are you?”

“I’d like to know the full scope of what people think about me.”

“I don’t usually read the nasty ones,” Jesse admits.

“Why not?”

“They make me feel bad. I wouldn’t want that for you, or for us. They just don’t matter.”

Hanzo frowns. “You have to stop saying things that make me want to kiss you.”

Jesse chuckles deep and warm. There is a moment of silence in which Hanzo becomes very aware of his Roomba puttering around in the other room and Jesse’s muted breathing from his computer’s speakers and his own breath whistling through his nose.

“Thank you, Jesse.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We still don’t know how this whole thing is gonna play out.” Jesse is playing with the pen again- his microphone picks up the quiet rattle. “But on the bright side, I get to see you again in just a week.”

Hanzo smiles through a yawn. “Then I won’t have to stay up so late and you won’t have to get up so early for us to talk to each other.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Jesse whines without any edge. “You like lyin’ around and waitin’ for me to get home.”

Hanzo scoffs. “Is that what you think I do after work? Twiddle my thumbs?”

“And other things,” Jesse quips coyly.

“Why, Jesse McCree, are you implying that I would be doing something lewd?” Hanzo tries to sound scandalized and jokingly clutches his chest.

Jesse hesitates for a moment. “D’you got time for, uh… y’know?”

“I am afraid I am not familiar with the past-time of ‘y’know.’ I do have time for you explain it, though.” Hanzo smirks. He knows exactly what Jesse is implying, but not giving him what he wants is much more fun than being easy.

“Gosh, the sass really never stops with you.”

“I can tone it down if you would prefer,” Hanzo offers.

“Naw, it doesn’t faze me none. S’real cute.” Jesse is beaming. Even though the light in his room is dim, Hanzo can still make out the flush in his cheeks.

Hanzo hums in agreement. “Tell me more.”

“Well it's just everyone sees this serious and immaculate person, ‘cuz that’s the type of attitude you put out- and you know it- but then I get to have you like this. You’re snarky, but real considerate an’ sweet. Love the way you smile when you’re givin’ a comeback or you don’t care who’s lookin’ and your nose crinkles at the middle.” Jesse’s voice hitches and he closes his eyes. “Wish I had you here right now to run my hands down those beautiful inked-up arms of yours. Or let our legs get tangled up in bed and feel the comfort of someone sleeping next to me. I want to kiss you- _god_ \- I miss the the softness of those lips and feelin’ your smile against mine.”

“ _Jesse_ ,” Hanzo groans and hides his face behind his hands. He’s pretty sure the whole sex over long distance thing is supposed to be, well, _sexier_. Not that Hanzo is complaining about Jesse’s adoration.

“Ah, sorry, I’ve never done this before.” Jesse looks away from the camera bashfully.

Hanzo cocks an eyebrow. “And you think I have?”

“Right, uh, let's take it slow then.”

“Do my ears deceive me? Jesse McCree wants to take something slow?” Hanzo laughs as he begins to casually unbutton his shirt.

Jesse laughs something stilted and shakes his phone camera as he readjusts his legs. “What’re you doing?”

Hanzo turns away from his computer to toss his shirt into the dirty clothes hamper. “Taking off my shirt. It’s one of the many _things_ I do after work.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Jesse actually has the nerve to looked shocked. “We’re actually doing this.”

“Well, at the moment _I’m_ actually doing this. Unless you’d like to take off your shirt as well,” Hanzo invites as he fiddles with the FaceTime window to make it take up his entire screen.

Jesse immediately begins methodically unbuttoning the front of his flannel, just teasing at the chest hair underneath, then pauses. “Is everything okay?” Hanzo asks, leaning forward towards his computer.

“Yeah, I’m just not doin’ it right.”

“I don’t think there’s a wrong way to take off a shirt…”

“No, there is, hold on.” Jesse gets up and sets his phone on some furniture piece Hanzo can’t make out from his position. However, it does give a full view of Jesse’s bed, so Hanzo forgets to make an inquiry.

Jesse leaves the phone to sit on the bed and return to his shirt buttons. This time, he angles himself so the nearby lamp light illuminates his eyes and catches on the muscle definition of his neck. Jesse makes a show of it, biting his lip and taking his time. Once it’s been unbuttoned, Jesse shrugs back his flannel so it pools at his elbows, leaving his bare chest exposed and emphasized by the light.

“I stand corrected,” Hanzo says as he leans back in his chair.

“That okay?” Jesse asks. The sweetness in his tone and the concern in his eyes comically contradicts the nearly pornographic pose.

“You never fail to surprise me.” Hanzo’s fingers trail against the waistband of his pants, teasing himself with the gentle tickle of pressure.

Jesse grins and relaxes into the pillows propping him up. He resumes making a show of undressing, slowly sliding down his boxers (“American flag patterned? Really, Jesse?”) until Hanzo makes a whine of complaint and he discards them entirely.

Hanzo is not so louche: it only takes him a minute to push his pants down to his ankles and discreetly slip a hand down to stroke himself underneath his underwear. Jesse follows suit, and they spend a moment listening to the squeak of Hanzo’s chair, the almost static rasp of the other’s breathing.

“Sugar, do you mind lettin’ me see the full show?” Jesse asks. Hanzo complies- adjusting the angle of his computer camera before shimmying out of his underwear the best he can without having to fully stand up.

Jesse makes a strangled groaning noise as Hanzo begins to touch himself again. “God, _Hanzo_ ,” Jesse whines. “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Love seein’ you come undone.”

As Jesse rattles off praise (much of which is between groans therefore and unintelligible), Hanzo speeds up his pace and lets his eyes slide shut. He leans back into his chair and is only slightly aware of the leather sticking to his bare ass and the slight movement from the wheels. Jesse’s sweet words and pleased noises are the primary focus of Hanzo’s attention.

He crosses his ankles, seeking more friction but also hoping the pressure will distract him from coming too soon.

“C’mon, none of that, now. If I were there with you, I’d have you stretched out wide so I could appreciate every last inch of ya.”

Hanzo uncrosses his ankles and pushes his legs as far apart as the arms of the chair will allow. The feeling of being so open makes him bite his lip a little harder. If he closes his eyes tight enough, he can almost imagine it’s Jesse’s hand around his dick instead of his own. “Is this satisfactory?”

He can feel the weight of Jesse kneeling over him, smell the smoke and spicy cologne. The breathy rasp of Jesse’s voice fills his ears. “I’ve got no complaints. You look amazin’, Hanzo. You- you-”

Hanzo parts his eyes open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of Jesse looking absolutely wrecked and stroking himself through his orgasm. The glimmer of sweat on his forehead and the slight tremor in Jesse’s thighs are enough to send Hanzo careening over the edge as well.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jesse exhales. He’s splayed himself out on his bed now, head obscured at the camera angle. Hanzo can make out the rise and fall of Jesse’s chest and wonders if he also looks like he just ran a marathon. Jesse’s voice is muffled from his distance from the phone, but Hanzo can still make out it out when he says, “Jesus, I don’t know if I’m gonna have it in me to wait so long ‘til I can see you again.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive a week,” Hanzo scoffs, though he understands the sentiment.

“I won’t survive an _hour_ ,” Jesse whines as he props himself up. “Shit, I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Hanzo hums and pulls a few tissues out of the box on his desk so he can start wiping himself down. ”As much as I enjoyed the long-distance sex, there are definite downsides. Namely the long-distance part.”

“One more week.” Jesse gets up from the bed and his phone is back in his hands. Hanzo gets a close up few of Jesse’s still sweaty face- eyes bright and lips shining with spittle. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive the week without being able to kiss Jesse either.

“One more week,” Hanzo echoes. It will have to be an exercise in patience. A long, torturous exercise that not even the bravest masochist would dare even imagine. He doesn’t even know how he’s made it this long without seeing Jesse, and now he has to wait another seven whole days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. It is excruciating to consider. Genji always said Hanzo had a flair for the dramatic, but this time he may actually spontaneously combust from longing. He gazes desperately at Jesse through the screen and closes his eyes to take a deep breath. Even when he isn’t looking at him, Jesse’s features are ingrained against his eyelids, so close and still so far away in the darkness.

One more week.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading! kudos and comments are love <3
> 
> EDIT 1/3/19: Life has been kicking my butt mega hard as of late, so I can't say when chap 5 will be up :( It is in the works right now but it will probably be a couple of weeks before anything is posted. Thank you for your patience!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse comes to DC. Antics ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> five months later and i finally have this! please enjoy

The longer Hanzo stands there, sign in hand, the more he feels like an ass. It isn’t a particularly nice sign- just a piece of printer paper with “Jesse” written in marker across the front. Hanzo has nice handwriting, sure, but it certainly isn’t a calligraphic masterpiece. Hanzo contemplates ditching the sign and just standing awkwardly like the woman next to him.

But, finally, Jesse emerges from the crowd. Ridiculously huge sunglasses cover half of his face, but he’s got the flannel he wore their first night together tied around his waist and a give-away toothy grin. He’s running towards Hanzo at an alarming speed, suitcase wheels squeaking in protest behind him. Hanzo drops the sign in favor of embracing Jesse once he comes within arms’ reach. Jesse’s suitcase falls with a muffled clunk against the floor as he follows suit, crushing into Hanzo’s chest and sloppily pressing their lips together.

“Darlin’, Hanzo, I missed you oh my god,” Jesse sighs, leaning his forehead against Hanzo’s. His sunglasses have gone slightly askew, hanging precariously on the tip of his nose, and Hanzo can make out the amber irises behind dark lashes.

“The feeling is more than reciprocated,” Hanzo murmurs, pressing another kiss to Jesse’s cheek. “I cannot believe you’re here.”

Jesse is laughing and warm and  _ here.  _ Hanzo can hardly believe it because the long distance combined with Jesse’s busy schedule makes the man seem like some fantasy Hanzo dreamt up. But, sure enough, he’s  _ here _ .

Jesse cups Hanzo’s cheeks. “I can’t-”

“Jesse McCree, you puerile bastard, stop running off.” Hanzo looks over Jesse’s shoulder to see Gabe storming over to them, his own suitcase being abused behind him.

McCree’s neck twists at an alarming speed and he almost scratches Hanzo’s face as he whips around to mime his neck being cut off. Hanzo almost opens his mouth to request an explanation but is cut off by whispered murmurs behind him.

“Did he just say Jesse McCree?”

“Like the actor? No way!”

“Shit,” Jesse curses under his breath and straightens out his sunglasses. He grabs his luggage in one hand and Hanzo’s hand in the other before walking towards the door as briskly as he can without drawing attention to himself. It’s too late, though.

A dozen people with cameras and voice recorders are crowded around the exit, seemingly manifesting out of thin air. In what seems to be an attempt at comfort, Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s hand.

“Here’s the game plan: don’t say anything. Don’t make any faces. Stay completely calm and they won’t go for you.”

Hanzo lets out a huff of laughter. “Jesse, you act like they can smell fear.”

Jesse shakes his head, expression stern. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they could,” he says gravely. “Let’s go.”

Hanzo’s smile falters, and he forces a neutral expression as they forcibly cross the threshold.

Immediately, Hanzo is hit with a now-familiar cacophony of people shouting his name and asking him questions. The smaller crowd does make it less extreme than his previous experience, though, and Jesse seems to be taking the majority of the assault. Skillfully, he weaves his way through the throng and ignores the questions and insults thrown his way.

One particularly nasty pap stands directly in Jesse’s way, unfaltering as Jesse tries to push through.

“McCree, do you suspect Mr. Shimada might have ulterior motives with your fame? What exactly is the nature of your relationship?”

While the insinuation makes Hanzo’s blood boil, Jesse easily shrugs it off. “That’s mighty rude of you to be askin’.”

“So you cannot be confident that Mr. Shimada is or is not using you?”

“I am _ right _ here,” Hanzo hisses. Jesse brushes his thumb over Hanzo’s hand to calm him.

“Hanzo is my boyfriend. I trust him.” Jesse turns to Hanzo and tilts his sunglasses down so he can meet Hanzo’s eyes. “I trust you, darlin’. Got that?”

Hanzo is too shocked to actually respond to that with anything more eloquent than a feeble nod. It’s confirmation enough to keep pushing through the crowd and eventually find the limousine Gabe has hired to take them all to Jesse’s hotel. The glossy black exterior is exponentially classier than the beat up 2003 Honda CRV that Hanzo’s Lyft had been earlier that day.

Once Gabe and Jesse pile their luggage and themselves into the car, Gabe pulls on Jesse’s earlobe.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Gabe sneers over Jesse’s protest. “Stop pulling stunts like that.”

“It’s not my fault reporters are assholes!” Jesse pouts. “I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about Hanzo, is all.”

Hanzo presses a kiss to Jesse’s cheek. “ _ I _ thought it was very romantic.”

“S’true, y’know,” Jesse says softly, leaning his forehead against Hanzo’s. “God, I missed you.”

Gabe makes a retching sound, which causes Jesse to roll his eyes theatrically. Despite Gabe’s grumbling, Jesse kisses Hanzo soft and quick and it's  _ not enough. _

“Now that we’ve gotten the cheesy reunion out of the way, can we carry on with the battle plan?”

“Battle plan?” Hanzo asks as he pulls his face away from Jesse’s.

Gabe goes on to explain in a frighteningly precise amount of detail his intentions for the next few days in preparation for the exhibit opening. Hanzo tries to listen, he really does, but about a minute into Gabe’s monologue, Jesse’s hand begins to creep up Hanzo’s thigh and Hanzo’s thoughts go static.

He doesn’t even realize that they were even approaching the hotel until the limo has stopped and they’re all being escorted out. Jesse is out first and nervously shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Gabe, can you hurry up? I gotta piss,” Jesse says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know if my bladder can handle another paparazzi attack.”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on. I’m not making Hanzo take your luggage to your room.”

Hanzo shrugs. “It is no issue-”

“Naw, I got it.” Jesse grabs his suitcase with more force than necessary.

Gabe smirks and takes an intentionally long time to pay the chauffeur and check into their room. The elevator ride seems to take eons, with Jesse freaking out the entire time. It was funny at first, but Jesse’s muttering starts to get genuinely concerning when it shows no sign of letting up as the moments keep ticking by.

When they finally get to the hotel room, Hanzo is convinced Jesse’s face might turn blue from how intensely he’s holding his breath.

As Jesse races to the bathroom, Gabe pulls Hanzo aside. His harsh gaze still intimidates Hanzo, even though he knows Gabe a little better at this point and knows there is no real malice behind it. “Just so you know, I didn’t tell him to do that whole thing with the paparazzi. McCree’s got a mind of his own and has a special talent for unintentionally causing a scene. The kid’s ass over teakettle for you.”

Hanzo chokes on his spit. “What did you just say?”

Gabe furrows his eyebrows, hard look softened by confusion. “Jesse just does what he wants?”

“No,  _ ass over teakettle _ . Jesse!” Hanzo pounds on the bathroom door to get Jesse’s attention. “Ass over teakettle!”

“You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth, sugar?” Jesse chuckles as he opens the door.

Hanzo grabs Jesse’s shoulders. “Remember how you said the phrase was ‘ass over heels?’”

“Yes, and I’m still convinced-”

“You’ve been combining ‘ass over teakettle’ and ‘head over heels’ all of this time,” Hanzo explains, grinning as if he had made an incredible discovery. 

“Huh,” Jesse’s lips quirk.

From the hallway, Gabe begins to bust a gut. “You two are idiots.”

Gabe’s laughter is contagious, and soon Jesse and Hanzo are joining in. Jesse ends up using Hanzo as a crutch to keep himself from falling to the floor, and Gabe ends up doubled over, breathily repeating “ass over teakettle” under his breath.

Things are… nice, Hanzo decides. He hangs out with Jesse and Gabe for a bit until Gabe leaves the room to take an “important business call” in his own bedroom, leaving Hanzo and Jesse to their own devices in Jesse’s room.

“Hi,” Jesse says, beaming. He turns onto his side to face Hanzo, who has been trying to focus on the ceiling to avoid getting overly distracted by Jesse lying on the bed next to him.

“Hi,” Hanzo replies and brushes his feet against Jesse’s.

Jesse, eyes twinkling, cups Hanzo’s cheek. “You’re really… wow.”

Hanzo presses his lips against Jesse’s lips, soft and slow as if they have all of the time in the world. Jesse is pliant as Hanzo pulls him closer and tangles their legs together. Jesse hums against Hanzo’s lips and stretches an arm up. Hanzo expects the arm to wrap around him or lie against him, but instead hears the tell-tale click of a camera.

Hanzo breaks away from the kiss and opens his eyes to reveal Jesse looking at a picture on his phone.

“This one’s real cute, don’tcha think?”

Hanzo tries to wrench the phone out of Jesse’s grasp, but his weak attempt is easily overpowered. “Jesse! I thought you didn’t like paparazzi.”

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain,” he says grimly. “It is a cute picture, though. My selfie game is  _ strong _ .”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Jesse giggles and sits up to pull Hanzo into his lap, wrapping his arms around Hanzo to show him his phone. “You can help me edit it.” Jesse’s breath tickles Hanzo’s ear, and he can feel the vibration of Jesse’s voice where his chest is pressed against Hanzo’s back on.

It isn’t a  _ terrible _ picture, as far as selfies taken mid-kiss go. Jesse opens the image in an app where he begins to mess with the lighting and layer undersaturated filters over it.

“More or less shadow?” Jesse asks.

“More, I think. It emphasizes your jawline,” Hanzo suggests.

“You’re so cute.” Jesse nuzzles into Hanzo’s neck. “Is it alright if I post it onto Instagram?”

Hanzo bites his lip. “Are you sure?”

“It’s alright if you don’t want your face on there. I understand.”

“No, no. I just… I didn’t think you would want to be that public about me.”

“Why the hell not?” Jesse’s voice cracks on the word “hell,” but he continues as if nothing has happened. “I love bragging about you.”

Hanzo genuinely can’t comprehend what Jesse means because he just used “love” and “you” in the same sentence. Hanzo hopes he doesn’t sound like an idiot when he asks, “What?”

Jesse snorts. “Aw yeah, it’s so nice to talk about my  _ boyfriend _ the classy museum curator all the time. Honestly, my friends are a bit sick of it at this point.”

“You say such sweet things.” Hanzo covers his face with his hands, more overwhelmed than embarrassed. 

“Just the truth.”

Hanzo watches as Jesse finishes editing the picture. Gabe wraps up on the phone in his room and begins padding around the suite. When he passes by Jesse’s room, Jesse perks up. “Hey, Gabe,” Jesse calls out. “Whaddya think of Hanzo getting an Instagram account?”

Gabe pokes his head into the room. “Well, he might have to deal with some nasty comments, but it would certainly help ease the public to the idea of him as an actual person and not just ‘Jesse McCree’s Boyfriend.’ I’d say go for it.”

Hanzo wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Aww c’mon babe,” Jesse whines and abandons his phone to stick his hands in Hanzo’s face. “Haaaaaaaaaaanzoooooooooo.” Jesse pulls on Hanzo’s cheek. “Make an Instagram account, please. For your sweet, sexy boyfriend. Pleeeeeeeeeeee _ ease _ .”

Hanzo swats Jesse’s hands away from his face. “Ugh, okay, okay. What do I have to do?”

Jesse returns his arms to where they were looped around Hanzo’s mid-section. He pilfers Hanzo’s phone out of his pocket and holds it on Hanzo’s stomach the same way he’d done with his own phone earlier. Hanzo acquiesces to pressing his thumb to the home button and allowing Jesse into his phone.

“It’s easy: all you have to do is download the app, make a profile, and start posting pictures.” Jesse opens up the app store and tries to download Instagram, but is thwarted by a request for another bioscan confirmation. Hanzo once again forfeits his thumb.

Hanzo whines and throws his head back against Jesse’s shoulder. “But I have no interest in sharing my menial everyday life with the entire world.”

“But the entire world has an interest in your menial everyday life!” Jess presses a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek.

“No, they have an interest in your exciting, celebrity life. I’m just the bonus content.”

Jesse nuzzles into Hanzo’s neck and blows a raspberry. His “I beg to differ” comes out slightly muffled.

Hanzo slides down so that his head is cradled in Jesse’s lap. When Hanzo looks up, there is a small wrinkle between Jesse’s eyebrows in what Hanzo has learned is an indication that he’s thinking hard.

“Yes?” Hanzo prompts.

“You’re like the- the, uh…” Red tints Jesse’s cheeks and Hanzo has to hide his mocking grin behind his hand, earning a light flick in the head from Jesse. “Awww, you know I’m no good at metaphors and shit!”

“How did I ever end up dating you, then?” Hanzo jokes, sitting up so he can lean back against Jesse’s chest. He pulls Jesse’s arms around him, smiling when Jesse’s hands come to rest against his chest.

“I believe it had something to do with my Hollywood charm and amazing blowjobs,” Jesse purrs.

Hanzo’s chest shakes with laughter at that until he’s practically melted into the bed. A snort even manages to overcome him- causing Jesse’s eyes to widen before he laughs at full force as well.

Somehow, Hanzo ends up lying on top of Jesse. Their out-of-breath laughter mingles in the small space between their mouths, which Hanzo closes because he can. Jesse’s  _ here _ . Hanzo can run his hands down Jesse’s arms and chest and cup his face and do all of the things he couldn’t when they were apart. He doesn’t even process that he’s started to unbutton Jesse’s shirt until Jesse groans against his lips.

And then, Hanzo is hit in the face with a couch pillow. “Nuh-uh. Nope. No,” Gabe deadpans from the doorway. “There will be no making out on the bed or any potentially explicit activities while I’m in the room next-door.”

“Then fuck off, Gabe,” Jesse sneers before pulling Hanzo’s face back down.

Hanzo hears Gabe say “Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then,” and then Hanzo is being bodily lifted off of the bed. Gabe slings Hanzo over his shoulder like the man weighs nothing.

“Is this necessary?” Hanzo asks, more out of shock than contempt.

“Probably not,” Gabe says with no hint of apology in his voice.

Jesse flails on the bed. “Put him down!”

“Only if you stop making out!”

“Gabe, that’s not fair,” Jesse groans like he’s a seven-year-old who has just been told he can't have ice cream for breakfast. “I haven’t been able to kiss Hanzo since we first met up!”

Gabe rolls his eyes unsympathetically. “Just… go somewhere else then. I need my beauty sleep and I certainly won’t get it with you two f-”

“Great idea!” Hanzo cuts Gabe off before he can go into any embarrassing details. As eager as Hanzo is to get his hands on Jesse, he isn’t too enthusiastic about Gabe being witness to any of it. “We can go to my apartment,” Hanzo suggests.

Jesse nods. “Another great idea!”

Getting out of the hotel and into the car is more of a venture than Hanzo initially intends. Despite the hotel’s promises of privacy, there are still a handful of journalists waiting in the lobby. Jesse leads Hanzo by the hand as they weave through busy bellhops and hotel guests to avoid the bloodthirsty paparazzi waiting in the plush lobby chairs. At one turn, a woman with a bright pink suitcase nearly drops her bag at the sight of Jesse. He winks at her and hurriedly pushes past out the front doors where the chauffeur is waiting. They spend the entire car ride laughing over the surprise on the woman’s face and how they had easily out-maneuvered the paparazzi.

But it is increasingly clear that it couldn’t be quite that easy as soon as they approach Hanzo’s apartment complex, where a dozen people are idling out front.

“Shit,” Jesse curses and squeezes Hanzo’s hand.

“No issue; we’ll just pretend like they aren’t there, right?” Hanzo side-eyes his boyfriend. “Just walk through, smile a bit, and ignore their questions.”

Jesse doesn’t look convinced. “That didn’t work too well for you the last time, remember?”

“But you’re here this time,” Hanzo says quietly, just loud enough for Jesse to hear.

Jesse gapes at him like Hanzo just told him the world was ending. The expression is so ridiculous that Hanzo has to kiss it off of his face.

“You’re really somethin’ else,” Jesse sighs.

Hanzo smirks. “So I’ve been told. Come one, let’s get inside.”

They exit the car with their hands still interlocked. It seems that as soon as the car door opens, the journalists and photographers perk up like dogs at the sight of a squirrel. And then they are upon Jesse and Hanzo, chorusing questions and insults and rumors. The flashbulbs linger in Hanzo’s vision, but they press on. Someone says something particularly nasty about how their relationship may conflict with Jesse’s career, and Hanzo almost speaks out, but Jesse squeezes his hand again and he holds back. He tries to focus on Jesse’s hand in his. It’s warm, sturdy, and constant. Much more constant than the piercing voices of the paparazzi, which are eventually muffled as Hanzo and Jesse enter the lobby of the apartment complex.

“We did it,” Hanzo murmurs in the elevator. He still hasn’t let go of Jesse’s hand.

Jesse kisses his cheek. “Little victories.”

When they reach his floor, Hanzo unceremoniously opens the door to his apartment and sighs. “Welcome to my apartment. It’s nothing special, I assure you.”

“I like it,” Jesse says, wrapping his arms around Hanzo’s waist. He hums as he takes in the sight of the living room- sleek light wood coffee table contrasting the rich navy of the couch, flat screen television framed on the wall opposite, a healthy houseplant in the corner of the room.

Hanzo’s Roomba whirs as it enters the living room and cleans up nonexistent dust from the spotless floor. With Jesse there, it really feels like home.

“What’s this little guy’s name?” Jesse asks, nudging the Roomba with his foot.

“Excuse me?”

“Your Roomba. What’s its name?”

“It does not have a name. It is a machine.”

Jesse looks personally offended. “You take that back.”

Hanzo huffs and crosses his arms. “You’re not allowed to get mad at me for not naming my vacuum cleaner.”

“I can get mad about whatever I damn well please!” Jesse curls his lips into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh but breaks as soon as Hanzo raises an eyebrow at him. Once Jesse has calmed down, he gravely pronounces, “Her name is Flicka.”

“Like... the horse movie?”

“You haven’t seen any of  _ my _ movies but you know about  _ Flicka _ ?”

Hanzo shrugs. “I’m not completely uncultured.”

“Hanzo Shimada, you are  _ truly _ a man of mystery.” Jesse shakes his head in mock disappointment.

“You like it,” Hanzo teases, wrapping his arms around Jesse’s waist.

He looks up and flashes a devilish grin. “I  _ certainly _ do.”

It's an intimate tour of Hanzo’s bedroom and a shower later when Hanzo finds himself looking through his fridge for something he can throw together for a somewhat-legitimate meal. All that remains inside is a half-eaten carton of chow fun, a jug of milk nearing its expiration date, various vegetables, and three eggs.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to eat,” Hanzo confesses as Jesse emerges from the bathroom with one towel around his waist and another around his head.

“Can I have the honor of takin’ you out on a real date, then?” Jesse asks, a twinkle in his eye. “We can go out for dinner.”

Hanzo frowns. “Is that a good idea? With the paparazzi and whatnot?”

“I can get Gabe to pull a few strings and get us a private table somewhere.”

“You shouldn’t have to. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” He can’t quite meet Jesse’s eye. They’ve been stumbling around the subject all day, but neither of them can seem to directly talk about this particular difference between them. The social pressure was absolutely frightening to Hanzo, who had grown up with the expectation that he was going to be somebody, and, in adulthood, ended up getting used to being a nobody.

But Jesse just rolls his eyes. “Hanzo, baby, you’re never a bother. Let’s go get dinner.”

Dinner ends up being, as promised, a private affair in a restaurant nice enough that they both have to change- Hanzo into a classy turtleneck and Jesse into a collared shirt with enough un-done buttons to be sexy and still maintain some class. It’s mostly spent with Jesse asking about Hanzo’s favorite things to do in DC and listening with attentive eyes and an adorably lovestruck smile. Hanzo rants about traffic and the inconveniences of city life almost as much as he gushes over the numerous museums within walking distance of his apartment.

They leave the restaurant hand-in-hand. In the poor street lamp lighting, it’s more difficult to recognize faces- or at least, that’s what Jesse assures Hanzo as they wait outside for the car.

Just as their conversation comes to a lull, a weird look crosses Jesse’s face. “Don’t look now, but here comes trouble.”

“Excuse me, are you Jesse McCree?” a quiet voice from behind Hanzo asks. He turns his head to see a nervous looking teenager clutching her phone with both hands. She squeaks almost inaudibly as she recognizes Hanzo.

“I certainly am. Did you want a picture?”

Hanzo is fearful the girl may faint. “Yes please, oh my god. You’re like, my favorite person ever,” she gushes.

“Aw that’s awful sweet of ya.” Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s bicep. “Do you mind, babe?”

Hanzo shrugs and gestures for them to continue. “Not at all, go ahead.”

As they take a selfie, the girl looks so excited (she’s just smiling so _ hard)  _ that Hanzo can’t help his own small smile from growing.

“Thank you so much! Gosh, I can’t even say how cool this is.” She beams at the picture on her phone as if she can’t quite accept that it’s real. “I actually came out to my mom while we were watching the interview where you were talking about your relationship with Mr. Shimada. It’s really cool to have other bisexual people in the media. I didn’t think my mom would get it, but I think you helped her understand. She’s a big fan, too. And… I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Jesse chuckles good-naturedly. “It’s all good, though. Quite humblin’ actually.”

The girl squeaks again, and again Hanzo is surprised that she hasn’t passed out at this point. “Thank you again! Have a nice rest of your night.”

“See.” Hanzo can feel Jesse’s smile as he kisses his cheek. “There are good parts of bein’ a celebrity. It’s not all online harassment and nosy reporters.”

“No, I guess not…” Hanzo hums. “Can we take a picture that I can post to Instagram?”

Jesse grins, all teeth and adoration. “Darlin’, nothing would please me more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me in the comments! hopefully the next chapter will be out much sooner :')


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then, somehow, it’s suddenly the night of the opening gala...

The days pass in a rush of last-minute exhibit preparations, countless phone calls, and squeezed-in time with Jesse. Hanzo spends a fourteen-hour day making sure every display in the exhibit is set up just right, each label is worded perfectly, and all of the pieces fall into place.

Then, somehow, it’s suddenly the night of the opening gala and Hanzo is straightening his tie in the mirror of Jesse’s hotel bathroom while Jesse is saying goodbye to his stylist at the door.

Jesse and Gabe are still standing by the doorway talking in hushed voices, but they fall silent when Hanzo enters the living room.

“Shit, Hanzo.” Jesse’s eyes widen almost comically, and if Hanzo weren’t so concerned about making a good impression it might have made him laugh.

Unfortunately, tonight is important, and importance makes Hanzo worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“Damn straight,” Jesse grins, sidling over to run his hands down Hanzo’s front. “You look way too good; there’s no way I’m gonna be able to keep my hands off of you tonight.”

Gabe scoffs from the doorway. “You barely keep your hands off of him at any rate.” He disappears back into his room for what seems like the tenth time within the minute, unable to keep himself from commenting on Hanzo and Jesse’s conversation.

“Gabe you don’t understand,” Jesse shouts so Gabe can hear from the other room. “Hanzo is usually a solid ten out of ten but now he's like, a twenty-five.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s mathematically impossible.”

“Exactly,” Jesse emphasizes with a chaste kiss. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

“Well…” Hanzo lets himself give in to the cheesy rom-com urge to get lost in Jesse’s eyes. It’s not difficult on a normal day, but with the way he’s been all dolled up in preparation for the gala, he’s even more stunning than usual. He’s dressed just smart enough to look like he’s not even trying to look sexy, and there’s a cowboy hat perched atop his head at an angle that, on anyone else, would have looked silly. On Jesse, though… “...the feeling is mutual. You look pretty ‘fucking hot’ yourself.”

Jesse moans, which catches Hanzo off guard, but not as much as the hands suddenly grabbing his ass and the scratch of stubble at his throat.

Or the sudden onslaught of decorative pillows.

“Jesus Christ, Jesse. How many times do I have to tell you: no debauching Hanzo while I’m in your general vicinity,” Gabe chastises, battering Jesse with pillows until he backs away from Hanzo.

“But, Gabe look--” Jesse whines, gesturing towards Hanzo.

He straightens out his blazer and readjusts his cufflinks, not-so-subtly preening under Gabe’s scrutinous gaze and Jesse’s praise.

Gabe shrugs noncommittally, but his smile betrays his reservations. “You do clean up well, Hanzo. I’ll give you that.”

Jesse beams in a way that reminds Hanzo of when Jesse was first dragging conversation out of him that first night together. Although it’s familiar, it still makes Hanzo’s head spin. He can’t recall the last time someone was so proud of him. Especially for just being there.

“Thank you?” Is all Hanzo can think of saying to Gabe’s undoubtedly once-in-a-lifetime compliment. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Gabe rolls his eyes as Jesse makes faces at him, too pleased to speak. “We need to go.”

“Right,” Hanzo says curtly. Jesse offers his arm out for Hanzo to take, which he does. And, as they exit the hotel Hanzo finds himself amazed that he just can’t stop smiling.

Hanzo has never liked the idea of limousines: the flaunting of wealth, the unconventional seating arrangement, the inevitable nausea from being surrounded by so many people in such a small space... He had ridden in a few with his father before he cut ties, and each experience ended poorly. Hanzo always associated fame (especially that of a movie star) with limousines and he was dreading the ride to the museum. So, he is more than ecstatic when, rather than a limousine, a shining beige 1946 Cadillac pulls up to the curb.

“Sweet ride, right?” Jesse asks, nudging Hanzo with his elbow.

“It’s incredible,” Hanzo agrees.

“Not quite the ‘surrey with the fringe on top’ that I originally wanted, but Gabe said that wouldn’t fly.” Jesse scoots closer to Hanzo so he can whisper in his ear. “He’s just scared ‘cause one time on set, a horse--”

“Jesse. Let me have a little dignity,” Gabe pleads through gritted teeth.

“Alright, alright,” Jesse sighs, laying his arm across the back of Hanzo’s seat. “One day we’ll get it, though. Whole team ‘a snow-white horses… just like _ Oklahoma _ .”

As soon as they settle in, dread begins to creep into Hanzo’s mind. This was going to be Jesse’s first public appearance with Hanzo, and even though Hanzo had hosted exhibition gala’s before, this one was his biggest yet. It was a significant night for both of them. If Hanzo messed it up by saying the wrong thing in an interview or accidentally tripping as he walked up to the stage to make his speech or not realizing there was a piece of spinach between his teeth as he talked to guests, he could ruin the whole night for the both of them.

“What’re you so nervous about?” Jesse inquires, pulling Hanzo’s hands out the vice in his lap and entwining their fingers.

“I’m not nervous,” Hanzo deflects, letting Jesse play with his fingers.

Jesse raises his eyebrows knowingly. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor with how much your leg is bouncin’.”

“I just- I’ve never really done this before,” Hanzo admits, and once he starts, he can’t seem to stop the truth from flowing out of his mouth in a babbled ramble: “In my life, there isn’t usually such a buzz over guests or a red carpet or anything of the like. Despite your and Gabe’s coaching, I’m concerned that the posing and photography and the whole walking down the red carpet aspect of the night are going to go horribly wrong.”

Jesse’s expression softens and he squeezes their hands together. “Hey, Hanzo, baby.  _ Breathe _ . It’s gonna be fine. Who cares if we look silly or say whatever the hell we want. It doesn’t matter. I’m here with you and we get to spend this special moment of your life together. That’s what counts.”

“But your career--”

“Trust me, my career isn’t gonna fall apart from a botched appearance at an exhibit opening.” Hanzo holds his breath and Jesse’s eyes widen. “Wait that didn’t sound right… Oh my God, I did  _ not _ mean for that to come out like that! You know I care about tonight--”

Hanzo tries to suppress his relieved laughter. “Jesse, I get it. You’re confident tonight will be worth it whether it goes well or not.”

“Exactly. I…” Jesse’s eyes shift from Hanzo, who wonders if Jesse can feel the drumming of his heart through his fingertips. “I’m real proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo smiles, genuine.

“Well… we better not keep the audience waiting.”

Jesse scoots out of the car and holds a hand out for Hanzo to help him out. Hanzo feels pretty undignified as he shuffles out, but the discontent is quickly overcome by anxiety as his eyes meet the photographers and journalists lining the velvet ropes around the walkway. For a moment, Hanzo is sure that he is frozen in place; it will be impossible for him to move any closer towards the crowd into their destination. But Jesse puts a comforting hand on the small of his back and begins guiding Hanzo forward.

“You’re doin’ great, Hanzo,” Jesse murmurs. “Just smile, we’re okay.”

They reach the first stop where they are supposed to stand and pose for a couple of moments while the cameras flash all around them.

“Like we practiced,” Jesse says through his smile.

Hanzo glances up at him and remembers that he needs to smile as well. Jesse is so natural, face relaxed, smile almost genuine. He moves his hand down to Hanzo’s waist and pulls him closer to change their pose. Hanzo complies and rests his hand on Jesse’s chest.

“Hey, babe.” Jesse looks at Hanzo which is not at all what they planned. They were supposed to smile and pose and then make their way through. Jesse was not supposed to talk to Hanzo or stray from the plan.

But, Jesse being Jesse, must have had his own plan in mind. Of course.

Hanzo meets his amber gaze with a raised eyebrow. “What devious intentions are you thinking of?”

Jesse’s soft smile turns mischievous. “I’d like to kiss you if that’s alright.”

“In front of all these cameras? Why Mr. McCree, what about your sterling reputation?” Hanzo teases. “Gabe would be so mad.”

“Not like that’s ever stopped me before.”

“Well, I cannot argue against tha-” Hanzo isn’t able to finish his sentence before Jesse’s hands cup his face to kiss him and Hanzo’s hand instinctively tightens around the lapel of Jesse’s suit. Blood rushes through his ears, and the sound of it almost drowns off the crescendo of clicking cameras.

When their lips part, Jesse is grinning like an idiot, and Hanzo is sure he looks equally foolish, but it doesn’t matter.  _ This  _ is what Jesse meant. They could be embarrassing themselves in front of the entire world and it didn’t matter because they were doing it together and having a good time. Despite every social instinct Hanzo had to not take risks or make a scene, Jesse could reverse them with a charming smile and squeeze of the hands, and Hanzo would enjoy it, love it even.

Hanzo chokes on his breath. He’s in love with Jesse McCree.

Which is... a good thing. Possibly a great thing. Genji would be so proud that Hanzo had managed to overcome his emotional constipation to admit something so important. It’s just frustrating that Hanzo realizes it  _ here- _ \- surrounded by people who care more about how many publications Jesse and Hanzo could sell than the legitimacy of their relationship. Hanzo wants to say something to Jesse, but they’re being ushered to go speak with a journalist and it feels like it’s too late.

It isn’t, though, Hanzo has to remind himself. They still have speeches, the presentation of the exhibit, and the rest of the night. They have tomorrow together. They have time.

“Gabe may kill me, but that was so worth it,” Jesse whispers as he re-laces their hands together. “Can’t wait to see how those pictures turn out.”

“Jesse McCree, how are you doing tonight?” the journalist asks into a recording device before sticking it into Jesse’s face. Hanzo is off put by the action but Jesse doesn’t seem to mind. He acts calm, professional, like he’s done this hundreds of times (which, Hanzo figures, he probably has).

“Couldn’t be better. We’ve got a great exhibit to present, an incredible array of talented guests and gracious hosts,  _ and _ I’ve got the best-lookin' guy in DC on my arm.”

“Right, you must be Hanzo Shimada,” the journalist smiles good-naturedly. “How has the night been treating you?’

“Well, I must admit I am unused to red carpets and the like but I would say I’m equally excited as my partner to open this exhibition on a high note.”

The journalist nods. “Now tell us, what exactly inspired the theme for your exhibition?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.

Hanzo fidgets. “It would be lying to say Jesse didn’t have  _ some _ impact on my suggestion. I think the public has a genuine interest in the ‘Wild West’ generated from the popularity of old and new Western movies. Comparing fiction to reality seemed like the perfect way to incorporate the known and the unknown, and draw in history buffs and everyday people alike.”

The journalist nodded again, approving. “Thank you, Hanzo. Changing the subject slightly, Jesse, can you tell us about your role in the upcoming show  _ Saddles and Spurs _ ?”

As Jesse rattles off a well-rehearsed answer, Hanzo finds himself relaxing. They were fine. He finds himself not paying attention to the conversation and honing in on Jesse, which isn’t very hard because he’s holding onto Jesse’s arm like a lifeline. The flash from nearby cameras occasionally causes Jesse’s eyes to twinkle and his easy smile to seem even more dazzling. Hanzo can’t even imagine how, during their first encounter, he could have thought this man, who oozed confidence without being self-centered and dressed sharply and smiled like he meant it, was anything less than a star.

Before Hanzo knows it, the journalist says her goodbyes and Jesse pulls Hanzo further down the carpet for one more session of pictures and then the sweet, sweet freedom of entering the building.

With attention turned away from them, the reception hall is less intimidating than the red carpet. An usher escorts them to their table where they’re sitting with a selection of other VIPs, including several of Jesse’s former co-stars who stand up to shake his hand or hug him or kiss his cheeks. Hanzo is introduced to all of them and tries very hard to keep track of all of their names, but with the added pressure of hosting the event, most of them end up lost in the frantic haze of trying to make a good impression.

Once people are mostly settled in their seats and Jesse is regaling the table with a story from filming his new show, waiters bring out platters of more food than Hanzo can comprehend, even though he signed the O.K. for all of it. Jesse still talks with his hands through the whole meal, gesticulating wildly with a forkful of salad, and Hanzo is content with listening and occasionally wiping the sauce off of Jesse’s chin.

“You two are sweet,” one of the women across from Hanzo gestures her long acrylic nails at him and Jesse. Hanzo vaguely remembers her being introduced as Olivia. “It’s been a while since you actually stuck with someone for longer than two weeks, Jesse.”

“Hey now, that was only because you kept setting me up with people who just wanted to date a movie star!” Jesse refutes before shoving his fork in his mouth.

Oliva leans in, eyebrow raised. “Don’t  _ you _ want to date a movie star, Hanzo?” she asks teasingly.

Hanzo shrugs, not sure what the right answer is. “I want to date Jesse,” he says honestly. “I didn’t even know that he was famous when I met him.”

“You weren’t kidding about that in your interview?” she gawks, nearly slamming her fork on the table. The other guests at the table begin to pay attention with rapt interest.

Jesse scoffs. “Why would I joke about that?”

“Because _ everyone  _ knows you!”

Gravely, Hanzo looks down. “I have been told by others that I live under a proverbial rock.”

While not intended to be a joke, the table seems to find it hilarious and everyone bursts into raucous laughter, including Jesse, who claps his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” Satya says as she approaches. “It is time for you to give your speech, Hanzo.”

The news is sobering to Hanzo, but the rest at the table does not seem to feel the same effect. Jesse presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Break a leg, baby. If you get nervous, just look at me.”

Hanzo manages a weak smile in return.

The walk up to the stage at the front of the room seems to take forever. Hanzo goes over the speech in his head twice and thumbs the note cards in his pocket, which were hastily scrawled only a couple of hours earlier just in case he needed them.

Once he sees Hanzo, the director stands in front of the podium and silences the audience. He says a few thank yous to the staff and the guests, then without further ado, introduces Hanzo. As he takes the director’s place, there is polite applause that only seems to amplify Hanzo’s nerves. He takes a second before speaking to locate Jesse in the crowd, who gives him a subtle thumbs up.

“Thank you all for coming tonight to experience this exhibit I have had the pleasure of working on for the last month and a half. I’d also like to thank the Smithsonian for the opportunity to intersect pop culture with history, and thank you to Jesse McCree for being the inspiration for this exhibit and for supporting me through this endeavor.”

Jesse proudly beams back at Hanzo, and that’s more than enough to keep him going.

“From the historical west to that recreated by Hollywood, there is an inherent fascination with this crucial point of American history. The struggles, the conflicts, the fight for survival, have all enthralled us in movies from  _ The Magnificent Seven _ to  _ Deadeye _ . In life, the historical recollections of Rattlesnake Kate and the infamous Billy the Kid give insight to the human condition within the Wild West. When the historical and theatrical come together, we learn more about ourselves and our past than we were able to devise before…”

Hanzo sweats through the rest of his speech, forcing himself to breathe when appropriate. Hanzo hates speeches- not that he’s bad at them, he just gets so worked up with so many eyes on him. It doesn’t help that he keeps accidentally making eye contact with Jesse, which makes his stomach twist every time. Despite Hanzo’s best efforts, he still feels light-headed by the time he closes.

“...with that, please enjoy perusing the exhibit and have a wonderful rest of your evening.”

After the speech, Hanzo returns to his seat, shaking hands with patrons who stop to congratulate him. Jesse kisses his cheek again and whispers “Great job, sugar” in his ear, which feels more gratifying than any corporate handshake.

Eventually, guests begin to filter out from the reception hall, obviously intending to get their fill of the culture being offered to them instead of the ridiculous amount of food still left over. Hanzo leads Jesse out and into the exhibition by the hand, and for the first time since the gala began, they actually manage to walk through the hallways without being hounded or accosted by cameras and questions. It seems that everyone is more engrossed with the displays than with the star in their midst.

Much to Hanzo’s surprise rather than disappointment, he and Jesse spend their time together mostly in silence. Of course, Hanzo has every description, historical background, and analysis nearly memorized at this point, but Jesse takes his time to painstakingly read them, trying not to miss a single detail. Hanzo’s heart leaps every time he hums or makes a noise of interest because it’s jarring how much care Jesse is putting into this. How much love.

“Aw shoot, I remember this!” Jesse beams as he approaches a display holding an ornate gold pistol. “ _ Riverboat _ had to be my best performance, I think.”

Hanzo hums, staring intently at the weapon. “It has been at the top of my ‘To Watch’ list since this display came in. The detailing on the grip alone is incredible. It’s difficult to believe this is a movie prop and not a genuine antique.”

Hanzo glances up when Jesse doesn’t comment. He almost looks unwell, face too red, eyes too wide, and mouth slightly ajar.

“Shit,” Jesse says, seemingly out of breath. He blinks his eyes rapidly and pats his cheeks as if trying to wake up from some sort of stupor.

“Is something wrong?” Hanzo tries to keep his voice steady despite the growing concern gnawing at his stomach.

“No, quite the opposite.” Jesse looks down at his boots in a moment of uncharacteristic bashfulness. “I think I might love you, is all.”

Hanzo can’t tell if his world starts spinning or stops to a jarring halt. Either way, he forgets how to breathe. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ah, I’m sorry- it’s too soon isn’t it? I didn’t- it’s not a big deal-”

“Shut up Jesse; of course it’s a big deal!”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to-”

“I love you, too.”

Hanzo can’t pull Jesse in fast enough, and their lips crash together almost painfully. Not that Hanzo cares. He could hardly care about anything- the exhibit could be a flop, all of the press could have their cameras trained on them, the building could be on fire, and he would still be kissing Jesse.

When Jesse pulls away, his expression is glazed over in the most open display of affection Hanzo thinks he’s ever seen on Jesse’s normally-expressive face. Hanzo is sure that his own features are reflecting the pure  _ love  _ he feels, too, because Jesse smiles achingly wide at him and Hanzo feels his heart pound in his chest at a wild pace.

“I love you,” Hanzo repeats, because it’s worth saying over and over again. Jesse’s eyes twinkle beneath the brim of his hat, so Hanzo does the only logical thing and fixes its ridiculous lopsided angle and leans in to kiss Jesse again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience always!! We've got one more chapter to wrap things up nicely and then this story will be complete! All of your kudos and comments have really made working on this a pleasure! Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the amazing support on Do You Mind? and Off Script!!! All of your comments and kudos are the reason this story has come into fruition, so thank you thank you thank you!!! Please keep the feedback up- it is the best motivator!


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